Chapter Nine – Mr. Demanding

LONDON

Alot of shocking things have happened in my life lately.

My father has an alliance with the criminal underworld – albeit a forceful one. Yulia has been keeping secrets about the Mafia and I'm about to be married off to some Russian criminal prince. All these are enough to drive a girl right down the crazy lane.

In this moment, however, nothing shocking rivals being referred to as 'my woman' by this insanely handsome god.

I tried to ignore the fact that he was ready to let Marcus take the fall for his actions. God knows I tried to deal with the incredibly bias guard without getting him involved. But all my efforts went down the drain the moment he said those words. 'My woman'.

I try to steel my treacherous body against the absurdly delicious thrill those words send down my spine. I wrench my mind from conjuring images of what it would feel like to actually belong to this man. To be owned, taken and dominated wholly by him. I take in his smug look and confident stance in one swoop. Not many men claim strange, unsuspecting women as theirs and still stand tall and proud. This man is something else.

I drill furious holes into his person, perhaps hoping to see him cringe under the force of my anger. He doesn't. Instead, he meets me, stare for stare, his eyes darkening with an expression I cannot quite decipher. I'm about to speak when Marcus interrupts me.

"C'mon, princess. Let it go. Now's not the time." He says, nudging my side urgently.

Then I remember my anger.

I turn my eyes once again on the disgustingly proud, arrogant arse of a man. Pant meltingly handsome, though he is, he does not have the right to trample on my best friend. I shrug Marcus off lightly.

"Where in any rational, civilised world do people hit others for no apparent reason? You should be getting questioned and possibly escorted off the premises and not my friend here. The security detail obviously need a replacement."

I fold my hands beneath my breasts, my chest heaving wildly. Beside me, the security guard's eyes widen in horror.

"I am very sorry sir," he stutters, "I'm sure she did not mean…"

Mr Dangerous lifts a palm and the guard falls silent. Why on Earth is he getting aplogies? It is Marcus who was bloody mauled!

"It's okay. You're dismissed."

I'm sure my jaw hits the ground as I watch the security guard's exit. Okay, NOW I'm angry.

"What the fuck is bloody going on here?" I yell. "This place has very shit management if any rich guest can order the security detail around."

I'm perfectly aware of the fact that I'm swearing like a sailor in the ballroom of The Blue Diamond, but I'm beyond caring at this point. Marcus grabs my arm and makes to drag me away when the stranger sticks out a hand in my direction for a handshake. I wonder if he's playing around. He just beat my bestfriend almost to a pulp and trampled the hotel's security guard, now he's requesting for a handshake like we just met for tea and scones. The gall of the man!

I stare down at his outstretched palm, eyes blazing, my hands hanging stiffly by my sides. After a while, he bends slightly and encloses my small palm in his bigger ones, shaking it gently.

He twirls a thumb over my knuckles and I almost swoon on the spot. There's only so much my nineteen year old heart can take.

Fiery electricity shoots up my arm. I finally look from our entwined palms to his face and blink from the heat that emanates from his eyes.

This is too much.

I yank my hand back, baring my teeth at him. He only smiles. The smug bastard.

"I guess we've not been properly introduced. Hello. Name's Luca. I own the Blue Diamond."

The words of protest I was about to spew die on my lips. This…this thirty something – ish man owns the Blue Diamond? I hear Marcus' shocked gasp. This is…surprising.

"You're kidding" I whisper.

He smiles. The smile disappears, however, when he looks down and sights Marcus' hand still on my arm. I mentally fight the urge to shrug him off. I rub my temple. This man is messing with my head.

"No. I'm not kidding. I do not believe I have the time for jokes and cheer."

I believe him. He doesn't look like he has any fun bone I'm his body. I understand the guard's absurd show of respect now. He's the boss. But boss or not, he can't just do whatever he likes to people.

"We were just leaving." Marcus' says.

Ha! He must be a big time joker if he thinks I'm leaving without an apology from Mr. Pompous here. I wrest my arm from Marcus' grasp, facing Luca with what I hope is a sassy lift of my eyebrows.

"I believe you owe us an apology, Mr. Luca."

He smiles, but the smile holds no hint of warmth. It just freezes my insides.

"It's Luca. I owe you an apology? Whatever for?"

He asks, his forehead creased in what looks like genuine curiosity. The nerve of the man!

"Whatever for?" I repeat, incredulously. "Allow me to educate you on proper, civilised manners in case your parents didn't. Owner of The Blue Diamond or not, you have absolutely no right to shove paying customers around. You owe us an apology."

I pause to catch my breath, only just noticing that there's a slight change in the atmosphere. Luca seems to be visibly vibrating. From the clench of his fists, it's definitely from anger. I look up at Marcus in confusion to find his face etched in a terrified expression. He looks about ready to bolt. Someone better start explaining because I thought WE are supposed to be the angry ones.

Like the flip of a switch, Luca's tense demeanour disappears. I watch, astonished, as the anger visibly drains from him. He goes from angry, raving giant to calm, polished gentleman in a heartbeat. He must be a psycho. How else does one explain such abnormal mood swings?

He moves slowly towards me and I force myself to stand my ground, my chin high as I watch his long legs eat the short distance between us. He pauses in front of me, starring down at my face with dark, hooded eyes. His face is merely six inches away from mine. I could sink my fingers into the thick curls of his hair.

"Don't you ever," he says, cold eyes boring into mine, "bring up my parents in any of your conversations. I'm letting his slip because apparently, you were not in the know. However, this should be the last time. Understood?"

His deep tone washes over me, sending liquid fire through my insides. I stare back at him with a defiant gaze, willing my trembling fingers and thundering heartbeat to slow down. I mean to give a sassy comeback. To tell him that he does not dictate the things I can or cannot do. But the darkness in his eyes stop me and I end up merely nodding.

"I need words." He stresses.

"Yes, I understand." My voice is soft, betraying my anger. Damn you, Luca.

He raises his hand towards me and my eyes widen with the realization that he means to touch my hair. Holy fuck, that can't happen. Something tells me I'd be doomed if I let this man touch me. I step back just in time, leaving his had suspended in mid air.

He gives me an inscrutable look, his deep grays piercing deep into my soul. His hands drop to his sides and my heart thuds with a pang of regret. Traitor!

"You're right, miss…?" He raises an inquiring brow at me. I can't tell him my name. I'm supposed to be a nobody out here.

"Cheyenne" I blurt. Cheyenne is my middle name so I'm not entirely lying.

"Miss Cheyenne." He says softly, as if savoring the name.

"Beautiful. Anyways, you're right. My sincere apologies to you and your friend here." He gives Marcus a flitting glance.

"I admit I was way out of line."

Ya think? I have a feeling he isn't sorry at all. His hands delve into his pockets and he gives Luca a hard stare. Weary, I just decided to end it. It's been a long night.

"And I'm sorry for involving your parents. I should'nt have done that."

I almost miss the grim look on his face as I turn to lead Marcus off to a clinic or something for his injuries. Perhaps his parents are a very sensitive topic. There must be some history there. I'm surprised when Marcus comes with me without complaints. For someone that was dead set on breaking into a private club a few minutes ago, he seems quite eager to leave now.

I barely take a step when a hand lands on my arm. The fiery electricity, coupled with little pin pricks of pleasure that shoot up my arm is enough to tell me that Mr. Dangerous has just touched me. I freeze, afraid to move.

After what seems like an eternity, he comes around to block our path, those cold, gray eyes fixed firmly on me.

He snaps his fingers and a black suited man appears by his side. I narrow my eyes thoughtfully. I did not notice any special bodyguards earlier.

"O'Brien." He says, never taking his eyes off me, "Take Miss Cheyenne's friend here to the hotel's health centre. I need a moment with her."

"Wh-what? Why?"

If I turned a second earlier, I would've seen the warning look Luca gives to Marcus.

Marcus touches my shoulder lightly.

"It's okay, sweetnesss. I'm only going to get treated. I'll be back shortly."

Stunned, I watch him wince as the man grabs his arm roughly and escorts him off the building.

"Be gentle with him, you brute! He's hurt."

Marcus turns, giving me a small reassuring smile. I do not feel reassured. He definitely doesn't look like someone being "dragged off" to a medical centre.

I make to go after him but a strong arm lashes around my waist. Within seconds, I'm being pulled against a hard chest and forcefully swayed in time with the band's renewed rhythm.

I try to ignore the delicious friction my breasts make as it rubs against his covered torso but my body is apparently in control. I feel my nipples pebble under his gaze and I send a silent thanks to the heavens for the miracle of padded bras.

I look up at Luca, taking in his smug smile and hooded eyes with disgust.

"What are you doing? Let me go right this instant!" I whisper-yell, unwilling to draw any more attention to my self.

He presses me closer against him. My hands slam against his chest instinctively, to prevent our bodies from making any more contact. He leans in unexpectedly, his hot breath fanning my ear and cheeks.

"Do not cause a scene, Cheyenne."

I nearly melt on the spot.

My fingers clutch his muscled forearms to keep myself from swooning. This gives him the outlet he needs. In one smooth move, he extracts my other hand from his chest and places it on his shoulders, then pulls me completely against him.

We're totally stuck together, chest to chest, hip to hip. I feel my heartbeat accelerate. My eyes fall to his chest to find it calm and smooth. Either the only one being affected here is me or Luca is an expert at hiding his emotions. The band switches to another song, the soulful, romantic voice of the artiste filling the restaurant.

This is too much. I have to leave. Now. I make to extract myself from his grip, freezing momentarily when his lips lightly brush my ear.

"Look at me, Cheyenne" comes the low rasp.

I shake my head stubbornly. If I make contact with those gray orbs, I might actually end up doing something really foolish. Like forgetting he just beat up my bestfriend and kiss him to within an inch of his life.

"Look at me" he growls sharply. My eyes jump to his on the low command. His hot gaze rakes my face, holds me captive.

My fingers on his arm tighten with the realization that I'm well and truly fucked.